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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212473">puzzle pieces</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aobajhoesai'>aobajhoesai (orphan_account)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Iwaizumi Hajime, Alpha Oikawa Tooru, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Rated M for language, Scenting, Slice of Life, Substance Abuse, actually this is just a bunch of random scenes from their lives, im literally in love with matsuhana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-08 21:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,732</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27212473</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/aobajhoesai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve been friends since forever. They’re going to keep on being friends - <em> just friends</em> - for the rest of their lives, too. Iwaizumi is one hundred percent sure.</p><p>Or,<br/>Despite both of them being alphas, Oikawa likes Iwaizumi's scent on him way too much. </p><p>To Iwaizumi's genuine surprise, it might not be all that platonic, after all.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>349</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>puzzle pieces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hi there !! yes, im still alive</p><p>as my first work in this fandom, im not sure im 100% good with it? but at the same time, i like how it's not as dramatic as all my other fics. it's a lil more realistic for me kjdfkjhs</p><p>i haven't had the motivation and/or inspiration to write in so long, and haikyuu got me out of that hole, so i'm thankful for that. i missed this lmao</p><p>please enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s Thursday.</p><p> </p><p>The soft <em> click </em> of the lock giving in feels louder than usual, when everything is otherwise quiet. It’s already dark outside, some shops have already closed for today and the majority of people have already retreated to warm blankets and quiet reality shows with a warm mug of hot chocolate in hand. </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi turns the doorknob, scrunching his nose as soon as he steps into his apartment.</p><p> </p><p>There’s this unmistakable aroma, someone's <em> scent </em> wafting through his flat, familiar in the way only <em> he </em> can be, only two decades of friendship.</p><p> </p><p>It’s quiet.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi kicks off his shoes gently, peeling his jacket off himself. He makes his way to the kitchen, careless enough to take a deep breath, knowing exactly how it fastens his heartbeat, dries his mouth. God, it smells so <em> good. </em>He spaces out for a few seconds before putting down the groceries on the counter, unpacking to fill his empty fridge.</p><p> </p><p>He takes the chicken out of the freezer to defrost, planning ahead; he’s genuinely tired of instant ramen and Chinese take-out, but such is the life of a college student. Still, the thought of spoiling himself with <em> actual </em> food sounds way too nice to pass the opportunity. It’s worth the effort, and Iwaizumi has always liked cooking, anyway. Oikawa made sure <em> everyone </em> knew that, too. (<em>“Iwa-chan will make a </em> great <em> wife. Too bad he’s mine, ladies.”</em>)</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi finally steps into his bedroom, frowning at the clothes thrown onto his floor. It’s Oikawa’s favourite jeans and one of his t-shirts, which means he’s wearing <em> Iwaizumi’s </em> clothes.</p><p> </p><p>He’s asleep. That much, Iwaizumi can see. He’s hugging one of Iwaizumi’s pillows, drooling on the other, all parted lips and soft snores. Iwaizumi likes him like this just as much as when he’s awake, but he makes sure he never says that out loud, especially not in front of Oikawa. Still, he indulges himself, just for a bit, letting that tender look shadow his features. (Hanamaki and Matsukawa usually start gagging when Iwaizumi slips up in public like this, but neither of those assholes is here to see, so fuck that.)</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi sighs, rolling his eyes, but there really is no reason to - again, there’s not a single soul around, so he doesn’t have to put up an act. Still, he shakes his head with a blooming smile in the corner of his lips, telltale of how fond he actually is.</p><p> </p><p>He takes off his pants, quick to slip under the covers next to his best friend before the cold catches up to him.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa stirs, eyelashes fluttering, blinking a few times to get his senses and brain working, groaning softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” Iwaizumi murmurs gently, studying Oikawa’s face. “You’re in my bed.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa groans again, taking the effort to shuffle closer to Iwaizumi until he can wrap himself around the other alpha like a fucking koala and Iwaizumi lets him, welcomes him, despite everything.</p><p> </p><p>“Smells like you,” Oikawa eventually grunts, pushing himself closer to Iwaizumi, like he needs something more, not satisfied yet. “Iwa-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi hums, fingers combing through velvet-soft locks, massaging Oikawa’s scalp. Oikawa’s eyes flutter shut, sighing softly. “Hng, <em> Hajime.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you want?”</p><p> </p><p>“Scent me,” he finally says, voice stumbling into a dangerous tone. Dangerously vulnerable, that is. Too soft-spoken and weak, and really, Iwaizumi is just as weak as his best friend sounds, because he can’t say no. Not when Oikawa sounds like he might drown if he doesn’t do something.</p><p> </p><p>“C’mere,” he calls gently, pulling Oikawa closer till he can press his nose on his scent gland. Oikawa’s reaction is immediate; he whines, and visibly shivers, exhaling shakily. Iwaizumi makes sure he’s thoroughly scented, rubbing the tip of his nose all over the sensitive gland, his wolf singing in satisfaction.</p><p> </p><p>“The other, too,” Oikawa whispers, and Iwaizumi obeys. Fingers gentle under Oikawa’s chin, Iwaizumi guides him until he can do the same to Oikawa’s other scent gland. At this point, his best friend is half on top of him, his leg thrown over Iwaizumi’s waist, arms wrapping around Iwaizumi’s torso. He’s clingy like that, even more so lately. Iwaizumi tries not to think too much about it, but there’s worry chewing away at the back of his mind, just a little. Just a tiny bit.</p><p> </p><p>When Iwaizumi is done, he tries gently pushing Oikawa off himself, but the other grabs his bicep, his grip tight and desperate. He pulls away to look down at Iwaizumi, eyes flickering down to Iwaizumi’s neck, and really, after so many years, Iwaizumi knows what his best friend wants by a simple look.</p><p> </p><p>“Go ahead,” he assures, huffing gently when Oikawa immediately dives in after Iwaizumi has given his consent. The moment Oikawa’s nose touches his neck, however, chills wash over him, goosebumps rising on his skin, warmth spreading through his chest, similar to lava. Hot, heavy and in some ways, dangerous, too. It’s like this every single time. Iwaizumi is afraid to get burnt and then he walks right into the fire.</p><p> </p><p>After scenting Iwaizumi, Oikawa seems to calm down a little. He’s still half on top of him, but Iwaizumi doesn’t really mind, just embraces him, lets Oikawa bury his face in his neck. It’s his way of relaxing because Iwaizumi has always been the core of his comfort zone, Oikawa told him one time, cheeks flushed and eyes on the floor, embarrassed. And it’d be hilarious, really, if it wasn’t for the fact that the feeling was mutual. Oikawa was Iwaizumi’s emotional support idiot, too.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks, careful. There’s a trick to this, how to handle Oikawa properly. If he pushes too far, Oikawa will pull up his walls and shut down completely. “Tooru.”</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t get an immediate answer, of course. Oikawa just buries himself more into Iwaizumi, like he’s trying to sink and drown. He takes a shaky breath, tickling Iwaizumi’s neck, breathing in his scent and locking it away somewhere safe, somewhere deep in his treasure chest. Iwaizumi doesn’t push, starting to rub comforting circles into Oikawa’s back, trying to relax so his scent doesn’t upset the other. </p><p> </p><p>“Been better,” Oikawa eventually mutters, honest. “You could’ve been nicer to me today.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi represses a snort. He doesn’t mention how they barely even <em> saw </em> each other today. Different departments and all that. He <em> did </em> ignore Oikawa’s texts once, but only because he was in the middle of a lecture, <em> for fuck’s sake, Tooru, I can’t fail this shit. </em></p><p> </p><p>Still, he knows what Oikawa means. <em> Being nice, </em> to him, also means that Iwaizumi pays attention to him, dedicates his free time to Oikawa. They’re not children anymore, hours empty of schedule are an actual treasure, and Oikawa insists Iwaizumi waste it on him. Because <em> we’re friends, Iwa-chan, and you love me so much, why would I deprive you of myself? </em></p><p> </p><p>“Sorry about that,” he apologises, staring at the ceiling. Oikawa hums, noses at his neck before planting a soft kiss and—yeah, okay. So maybe, normal friends don’t kiss each other like that, but hell will freeze before Iwaizumi rejects Oikawa. <em> Oikawa, </em> of all people. His best friend, who believes actions speak louder, who needs Iwaizumi to hold him and let him do his shit. It happens. Oikawa’s independent and strong but it <em> happens, </em> alpha or not.</p><p> </p><p>“Sleep,” Iwaizumi whispers.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s the idea,” Oikawa retorts, his taunting tone twisting his words.</p><p> </p><p>“Watch it,” Iwaizumi warns.</p><p> </p><p>“Really, <em> Haji, </em> one would think you’d stop putting up the <em> big strong alpha </em> act when you’re with me,” Oikawa sighs. “You’re not fooling anyone.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re annoying.” Iwaizumi turns, pushing Oikawa off, but Oikawa immediately latches onto him again, wrapping his arms around Iwaizumi’s torso. </p><p> </p><p>To cover up his neediness, he chimes. “And you’re <em> mean. </em> And I <em> still </em> love you. This world is an unfair place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up,” Iwaizumi mumbles, pulling Oikawa closer. “Sleep time.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa hums, relaxing, inching closer. “G’night, Haji.”</p><p> </p><p>“Night,” Iwaizumi whispers, soft. His eyelids are heavy, wrapped up in warmth and Oikawa’s scent. It’s peaceful. Like home.</p><p> </p><p>They fall asleep in no time.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Campus is bristling with people. The scent of irritation (thank you, educational system), uncertainty (thank you, stupid exams) and ever-so-scarcely, excitement (thank you, friends) - it’s overwhelming. Not to Iwaizumi, but he knows for a fact that Oikawa is more sensitive to scents than he is, can get dizzy from way too much nasal input. That said, Iwaizumi’s brain absolutely refuses to acknowledge the possible meaning behind the frequency with which Oikawa asks <em> him, </em> and <em> Iwaizumi only, </em> to scent him. To flood his senses with his own mark, and, yeah, okay. Maybe if Iwaizumi’s head wasn’t buried deep in his own ass, he’d notice things like that but unfortunately for him, he finds extreme pleasure in being oblivious and overboard self-conscious. </p><p> </p><p>He’s sure Hanamaki and Matsukawa only say that to piss him off. Not because they think it’s true.</p><p> </p><p>“Seriously,” Hanamaki brings Iwaizumi back from spacing out, shoving at his shoulder. He’s sitting on the other end of one of the university deadwood benches, a table between them that’s suspiciously sticky. “When you gonna bone him? You’re so shit at romance, bud.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi glares at him. “I’m pretty good at wringing your neck, I’d say.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki moans, throwing his head back. “Oh my God.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Matsukawa interjects. “You sound like an underpaid porn star.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki turns to his best friend, raising a brow. “Like a lemon-stealing one?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Matsukawa grins. “But I can dig it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dig me with your wee wee.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi sighs, ignoring the weird you’re-my-bro-but-I’d-fuck-you exchange. He’s not going to say it, especially not in front of these two fucks, but he misses Oikawa. He misses normal conversations.</p><p> </p><p>He shakes his head, looking away, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd. Not any stupid face, of course, but again; he’s not admitting to that. </p><p> </p><p>Thankfully, his prayers have been answered. A messy mop of chestnut hair bobs towards them - and it doesn’t just <em> look </em> soft, it <em> is, </em> Iwaizumi knows that first-hand - right on top of the most perfect face God could ever craft. </p><p> </p><p>The frown melts off Iwaizumi’s face, a subtle smile curling at the corner of his lips, shoulders relaxing. Oikawa waves at him, a gorgeous smile blooming on his mouth, and Iwaizumi raises his hand, nodding lamely. His scent shifts, from irritated to something subdued, something <em> soft. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Simp,” Matsukawa quips. “You’re Simp of the Year.”</p><p> </p><p>“And you’re gonna be Murder Case of the Month if you say one more word.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa rolls his eyes. “Lame, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi is about to retort, his gaze trailing back to his best friend, but Oikawa has already made his way up to them. He sits down on Iwaizumi’s lap, unannounced, head falling on Iwaizumi’s shoulder in a slightly awkward angle. Iwaizumi’s nostrils flare, Oikawa’s scent permeating his senses. He smells a tad too sweet for an alpha but Iwaizumi thinks it’s fitting. Oikawa’s never been your stereotypical alpha, not bothering with secondary gender norms. (Not that he should. Yeah, no. He really shouldn’t.)</p><p> </p><p>The change in Iwaizumi is immediate. He gets gentler, softer around the edges, blurring the sharp lines of his pride and built-up tough exterior. He’s been like that ever since the start of university; less defensive mechanism, more showing emotions. He’s grown soft, he knows this, and still, he can’t find it himself to be embarrassed with the way Oikawa beams when Iwaizumi says anything remotely nice. So, yes, Iwaizumi is becoming a soft bitch, especially around Oikawa, but he’s mature enough to get over Hanamaki’s and Matsukawa’s jerk comments.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he says, all hushed tones and gentle nudges, his arms falling around Oikawa’s waist like second nature. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa grunts, shifting, getting more comfortable, face buried in Iwaizumi’s shoulder. His nose almost touches Iwaizumi’s scent gland, and Iwaizumi tenses a little. </p><p>He furrows his brows.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?”</p><p> </p><p>“Drained,” Oikawa huffs, pulling away to look down at his best friend. He grins, a little fake, dramatically sighing. “It’s exhausting to be so perfect all the time, you know? I feel bad for the whole campus falling for me.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi raises a brow. “Yeah, me too. You suck.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa slaps his shoulder. “Mean, Iwa-chan, mean!” He’s pouting. Iwaizumi snorts, eyes taking on a subtle glint, shining with something dangerously tender. </p><p> </p><p>“Bitchy, <em> Oi-chan, </em> bitchy,” he retorts, mocking Oikawa. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa narrows his eyes, grabbing Iwaizumi’s hair at the back of his head, pushing him against his neck, urging Iwaizumi on. And Iwaizumi gets it, without so much as words.</p><p>He rubs his nose against Oikawa’s scent gland, his alpha humming in satisfaction, letting Oikawa turn soft in his lap, melting.</p><p> </p><p>“I hate you,” he grumbles, eyelids droopy.</p><p> </p><p>“Hate you too,” Iwaizumi chuckles, covering him in his own scent completely, making sure no one will mistake Oikawa for a single man. He is, but the campus doesn’t have to know that. Let them believe.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think they forgot we’re here?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi pulls away, shooting daggers with a look at Hanamaki, forehead wrinkling. “Absolutely hilarious, Makki.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah, I did actually forget you,” Oikawa says bluntly. “Just Makki, though. Hi, Mattsun.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa laughs, flicking his wrist in a welcoming gesture. “Yo.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki huffs. “I really don’t get it, Iwaizumi. How do you do it?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do what?” Oikawa asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Tolerate you.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shrugs, nonchalant. “I don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa slaps his shoulder again, pouty. “Jerk.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dipshit,” Iwaizumi shoots back, smiling up at Oikawa, realising a second too late he should control his expression, because Oikawa’s frown melts the moment he meets Iwaizumi’s eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“Bro,” Matsukawa starts. “All this sexual tension is killing my mood.”</p><p> </p><p>“You were in the mood?” Hanamaki asks, wiggling his eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Popped a stiffy for your mismatched socks, dude.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki gasps. “Oh my God. You had a <em> bro</em>ner.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa goes bug-eyed, and then he’s losing his shit.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi and Oikawa share a look. Iwaizumi might be a little hopeless at this whole childhood-friend-crush thing, but he’s not <em> hopeless </em> like these two are.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“You’re shitfaced.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a question. It’s obvious, in the comedic way Oikawa has trouble balancing, looking like he’s feeling heavier and clumsier than he is. He’s leaning on the back door, palm against the surface, giggling at Iwaizumi’s assumption. He bites his lip coyly, battling his eyelashes - Iwaizumi knows this side. Oikawa is a flirty, needy drunk. Iwaizumi knows him.</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki stands right behind him, pushing him forward and then grabbing him by his bicep and pulling him out to the back porch, onto the wooden deck Iwaizumi and Matsukawa are chilling at.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m <em> your </em>shitfaced, Haji,” he slurs, stumbling his way next to his best friend, who’s sitting on the deck railing. Hanamaki giggles at that, giving Iwaizumi a thumbs-up. Not that Iwaizumi is that thankful for him. He flips Hanamaki off, who laughs again, stepping next to Matsukawa - who’s leaning against the railing - and snuggles up to him, the wooden deck creaking with a shift in weight.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi brings his joint back to his mouth, taking a longer inhale, holding it in, releasing. He’s high as fuck but still functional enough to recognise the frown on Oikawa’s face. He doesn’t like it when Iwaizumi smokes, never did, and Iwaizumi <em> knows </em> Oikawa knows that he still does anyway, from time to time. Matsukawa is his partner in crime, and there are some nights when he simply just <em> can’t </em> reject this feeling.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa slips between his legs, hands on Iwaizumi’s thighs, pouting. “You left me.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi smiles, much less uptight than he normally is. Smoking fucks with his inhibitions, lips loosening, making him feel lighter than he weighs. “Sorry,” he says, taking another drag.</p><p><br/>
Oikawa follows the movement, eyes fixed on the joint between his fingers. Then he turns to Iwaizumi, pouting. “Why didn’t you invite me?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi tilts his head. “You don’t smoke.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, but,” Oikawa bites his lip, gesturing to him and Matsukawa and now Hanamaki, too, who has monopolised Matsukawa’s own joint for the moment, taking a drag. “If you’re all doing it…”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shakes his head. “You’re drunk. Getting crossfaded ain’t fun.” The syllables feel heavy on his tongue. He feels <em> good. </em></p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s pout intensifies. He crosses his arms, and that’s when Iwaizumi realises the hoodie he’s wearing is too big in the arms and definitely not Oikawa-styled. “Is that my hoodie?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Oikawa lights up, giggling. “Stole it from right under your nose.” </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi snickers. Matsukawa and he came out for some <em> fresh air </em> at least fifteen minutes ago. It couldn’t be that hard to find his hoodie. Still, the thought clenches something fidgety in his chest and there’s a happy warmth in his gut. Oikawa smells like him.</p><p> </p><p>“Your eyes are so red, Haji,” Oikawa blurts, in awe. </p><p> </p><p>“And you’re a mess,” Iwaizumi grins, reaching out to comb his fingers through his best friend’s hair. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not <em> that </em> drunk,” Oikawa objects.</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Hanamaki cuts in. “You’re pretty fucked up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut up, Makki,” Oikawa grunts, offended. “I’m just fine.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s not. He’s having trouble finding the words, a cute frown on his face as he’s concentrating hard on not sounding like he’s shitfaced. Which he is. He’s also wobbly, holding onto Iwaizumi’s thighs for leverage, leaning against him. Iwaizumi’s legs lock into the railing so he doesn’t fall backwards, smiling at his best friend knowingly.</p><p> </p><p>“And none of you are that sober, either,” Oikawa adds, still grumbling.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa looks like he’s just started to feel it,” Matsukawa says. “I’m pretty high, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m not a bitch,” Hanamaki remarks.</p><p> </p><p>“You’d make a good one, though,” Matsukawa retorts.</p><p> </p><p>“O shit waddup.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa wheezes. “Dank dick, bro.”</p><p> </p><p>The two slide down to the floor, partly because they can barely stand, partly because they always end up like that, with Hanamaki practically sitting in Matsukawa’s lap, snuggling into each other. Matsukawa’s gangly body wraps around Hanamaki’s, resting his forehead against Hanamaki’s shoulder, just giggling to himself.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi looks away from them when Oikawa’s scent turns unexpectedly sour. Is that <em> envy</em>? He turns around, his back to Iwaizumi, settling between his legs, arms crossed.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi,” Iwaizumi nudges him, turning him back by his shoulders to face him, mind swimming a little, drowsy, but he focuses his attention on his best friend.</p><p> </p><p>“What?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi’s unoccupied hand cups Oikawa’s cheek, gentle, smiling. He pulls Oikawa closer, leaning in, gravitating towards Oikawa’s neck. And then he’s scenting him.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa flat out <em> moans. </em> He grabs Iwaizumi’s shirt, clenching it in his fist, throwing his head back. Uncharacteristically submissive from an alpha, he bares his neck some more, to give Iwaizumi space, pushing closer. </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi nips on his scent gland, bold from the drugs; playful, even.</p><p> </p><p>And then Oikawa grabs him by the hair, yanking his head back, returning the favour. Iwaizumi growls softly in the back of his throat, alpha a little unhappy with this vulnerable position, but Iwaizumi ignores his wolf, letting out a shaky breath.</p><p> </p><p>He shudders, Oikawa’s hands on him, tightening around his hip. And then he releases, fingers trailing up Iwaizumi’s side, and then downwards from his shoulder, until his fingertips brush against Iwaizumi’s wrist.</p><p> </p><p>Before Iwaizumi can react, admittedly a little slower than when he’s sober, Oikawa has snatched the joint from his hand. Iwaizumi opens his mouth to protest but his eyes widen when Oikawa drops it in the general direction of Matsukawa and Hanamaki. Matsukawa picks it up immediately, shooting Iwaizumi a shit-eating grin, taking a shameless drag.</p><p> </p><p>“What are you—” His breath hitches when Oikawa noses under his jaw, and then he’s pulling away. Iwaizumi is about to let out a relieved sigh, finally catching his breath but he doesn’t get to. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa kisses him.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi lets out a surprised noise, which soon turns into a small, very-pleased sounding moan that pierces through his throat. He’s fucked up enough to throw caution out the window, and he’s not thinking about anything, not even for the second. He’s just <em> feeling. </em></p><p> </p><p>Oikawa cradles his face, so gently too. His lips are as soft as they look and he kisses as good as he says he does, teeth grazing Iwaizumi’s lower lip, and then sucking on it, and, okay. Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi kisses him back with the same fervour, licking into Oikawa’s mouth, hands desperately reaching out, pulling him even closer. It’s somewhere between a romantic and an adult film kiss.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi recognises his asshole best friends’ voices, cheering them on. Hanamaki does that whistle thing with two fingers on both sides of his mouth. Jerk.</p><p> </p><p>“Yo, Oikawa,” Matsukawa calls, Iwaizumi’s eyes fluttering open for a second to see the motherfucker send them a sly look. “Don’t forget to do that biting thing. You know Iwa-chan <em> loves </em> that.”</p><p> </p><p>As expected, Oikawa throws him a middle finger as they kiss. Iwaizumi makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, pulling Oikawa closer and his arm falls, finding its place on Iwaizumi’s thigh, middle finger forgotten. And then they’re back to kissing, like the douchey intervention never even happened, and Iwaizumi takes it, takes what he can get.</p><p> </p><p>He kisses Oikawa for real, drinking him in, tasting him. Oikawa lets out these small sounds every so often, and things seem to be constantly heating up, with Iwaizumi’s hands finally touching Oikawa’s skin, sneaking under his shirt, scratching his skin. In exchange, Oikawa puts his hand on Iwaizumi’s nape, pulling him in, like they aren’t close enough, <em> can’t </em> be close enough.</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, um. Wow.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna go ask him out.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who?”</p><p> </p><p>“Iwaizumi-san!”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what? Are you for real?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi smiles to himself. They’re waiting for Matsukawa to finish up in front of the coffee shop, and there are two girls, standing a few metres away from them, speaking way too loudly - he’ll admit, it does his ego some good. He glances up, distantly recognising one of the girls - the omega, his wolf helpfully supplies - as a face in the crowd, but that’s about it. </p><p> </p><p>He looks back at his phone, scrolling through his Twitter feed. He presses on one of Hanamaki’s tweets, reading through the thread of Matsukawa replying dumb shit. The girls keep talking, something about Iwaizumi being gentle and polite, when he smells it.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s scent has turned into an ugly, bitter one, distinctly <em> alpha. </em> Iwaizumi looks up, just in time to catch his best friend glaring at the two girls, flecks of gold flashing in the outer corner of his eyes. That is, until Hanamaki puts a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the poor girls, who seemingly got the memo, scurrying away. They’re gushing about <em> next time, next time </em> but Iwaizumi doubts the poor girl will have the confidence for that.</p><p> </p><p>He's about to open his mouth and ask what the actual fuck that was, when Matsukawa’s arm falls around his shoulder, causing Iwaizumi to nearly lose his balance.</p><p> </p><p>“Yo,” Matsukawa says, grinning down at his friend. “Nice cock.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi snorts, rolling his eyes. “Hi, Mattsun.”</p><p> </p><p>He still wants to ask what set off Oikawa’s alpha but soon forgets about it, with Matsukawa and Hanamaki killing off his leftover brain cells.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>To say the least, Oikawa is uncomfortable. </p><p> </p><p>There’s this group of <em> very </em> insistent omegas, standing in a semi-circle around him. Oikawa usually relishes the attention, but there are certain boundaries that he would prefer for people not to cross. For example, no, he won’t give his hoodie to any of them; it’s cold and they’re practically <em> strangers, </em> too. No, he won’t scent any of them and sure as hell won’t let any of them scent <em> him. </em> No, he won’t go out tonight, can’t, has plans for the afternoon with Iwa-chan, sorry. </p><p> </p><p>There’s this one omega, a little <em> too </em> pushy for his comfort zone. She keeps plastering herself to Oikawa’s side, giggling at everything Oikawa says. Her flirting skills aren’t half bad but that doesn’t matter, because she’s making Oikawa uncomfortable.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry, ladies,” Oikawa smiles, trying to brush them off gently. “I’m quite sensitive to scents, you see, so I don’t like scenting all that much…”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve seen Iwaizumi-san scent Oikawa-san plenty of times!” One of them accuses. Oikawa grimaces, quickly schooling his features.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan’s a long-time friend, it’s different…” He waves, still unable to free his arm from the omega at his side. “I’d like to save scenting for intimate times, ladies,” he says, purposefully suggestive. He’s stuck, holding onto his reputation, hiding behind it the best he can.</p><p> </p><p>The omega hanging off his arm slaps him playfully, and Oikawa wants to go home. He likes company, but this isn’t company, this is <em> overstepping. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Kawa<em>-chan</em>, you’re so naughty!” She laughs, resting her face on Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa’s stomach clenches, a lump in his throat, and then there it is;</p><p> </p><p>The girl’s nose brushes against his scent gland.</p><p> </p><p>The effect is immediate. Oikawa’s eyes flash gold, a growl ripping its way through his throat, scent thickening up. His senses are flooded with the sickly sweet scent of the omega, and it feels all so <em> wrong, </em> Oikawa almost starts gagging. It’s so <em> invasive, </em> and he wants it out, away from him, heartbeat picking up as panic creeps up his spine.</p><p> </p><p>He pushes the omega off, putting a little force behind his motions when the girl doesn’t budge. He steps away from her, eyes wide, taste of phlegm on his tongue. It’s all so <em> wrong, </em> an overwhelming mark on his gland, too much. Too much.</p><p> </p><p>“Sana! Oikawa-san said he doesn’t like scenting!” He distantly registers someone's reprimand, mind fuzzy. He’s having trouble properly functioning his respiratory system, taking shallow breaths that seem to lack any oxygen.</p><p> </p><p>“Excuse me,” he chokes, stepping away from the group, swallowing. He’s trembling, too; shaky hands - annoyingly so as he tries to fish his phone out of his pocket. He unlocks it, immediately clicking on his contacts, pressing his thumb on the only one he’s able to think of right now. The one he'll always call first. </p><p> </p><p>Two rings, and then his call is answered.</p><p> </p><p>“Oikawa, this better be quick, I’m already late for class—”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hajime.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi goes silent for a couple of seconds. Then, having assessed the situation, he asks in a much gentler tone,</p><p> </p><p>“Tooru?”</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t breathe,” he chokes out. “I can’t—make it stop, please-”</p><p> </p><p>God, he’s crying. He’s shaking, too, wobbly on his legs. Still, he starts walking towards Building E, where he <em> knows </em> Iwaizumi is, while he’s clutching his phone to his ear.</p><p> </p><p>“Tooru,” Iwaizumi says softly. “Where are you right now?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa sucks in a sharp breath, his lungs tightening. “On my way. To you. Campus.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Okay, I’m coming. Tooru, listen to me, okay? It’s okay. You’re fine. I’ll be there in a second. Breathe for me, ‘kay? Tooru?”</p><p> </p><p>“C-can’t—”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you can,” Iwaizumi says. “I know you can. You’re doing so good. C’mon, I’ll count for you, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>They end up doing the 4-7-8 technique for him, with Iwaizumi breathlessly panting the numbers into the microphone while Tooru tries to follow his instructions, with little to no success. It feels like hours, the amount of time it takes Iwaizumi to get there. Oikawa’s fuzzy mind even supplies some non-helpful comments about how <em> he’s not even coming, stupid </em> but he pushes them to the back of his mind, squeezing his eyes shut.</p><p> </p><p>He only opens them when he can faintly smell Iwaizumi, and he looks up to see his best friend jogging towards him, having stopped counting, just breathing reassurances into the phone until he’s within hearing distance.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa reaches out for him, and Iwaizumi welcomes him, wrapping his arms around Oikawa.</p><p> </p><p>“Your scent—”</p><p> </p><p>“Haji,” Oikawa gasps. “Make it stop. <em> Please.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi blinks, looking torn before he nods, gently cradling Oikawa’s face in his hand. He tilts Oikawa’s head, rubbing his nose right where that <em> nasty </em> omega did. Oikawa gasps, then cries out in relief, but he’s still shaking like a goddamn leaf in Iwaizumi’s hold.</p><p> </p><p>“Breathe,” Iwaizumi reminds, not pulling away just yet, holding Oikawa. “Come on, do it with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa tries his best, but it takes a little time. Iwaizumi is <em> definitely </em> late for his class now, but he doesn’t say anything about it, just shushing Oikawa when he tries to bring it up. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa hasn’t had a panic attack in years. He’s been getting better at managing and dealing with life but this is living proof that he can never really escape this. He’ll always have that little bit of <em> fucked up </em> in him, that makes him feel different and envious of others. He knows his friends have their own issues as well, so his anger is solely directed at the people who don’t know what real struggles are like. It’s a senseless resentment but feelings are not known for being rational, so. Let him have this.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, we need to get you home.”</p><p> </p><p>“But what about—”</p><p> </p><p>“Tooru,” Iwaizumi shuts him up. “You just had a panic attack. There’s no fucking way I’m leaving you like this.”</p><p> </p><p>"It wasn't <em> that </em> bad, just a little…<em>hyperventilation.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Shut the fuck up before I kick your ass."</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa looks down at the ground, nodding softly. He feels warm. Iwaizumi takes his hand, and they’re off.</p><p> </p><p>On their way home, Iwaizumi tells him he’ll need to wash off the omega’s scent to get rid of it properly, and assures Oikawa he’ll scent him again, if Oikawa wants that.</p><p> </p><p>And Oikawa wants that.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“Oikawa, let’s go home.” Iwaizumi leans against the doorframe, having already changed into his casual clothes. It’s cold enough for his breath to appear in soft clouds as he exhales, so he doesn’t want to stay that much longer. With the way the door’s completely open, Oikawa will catch a cold, too, and that’d be a huge nuisance for future-Iwaizumi.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m gonna stay a little longer, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa brushes him off, waving away at Iwaizumi. “You go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi raises a brow. Not this again.</p><p> </p><p>“Oi, we’re not in high school anymore. You can’t afford to lose time over this <em> and </em> overwork yourself, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“No such thing as overworking myself, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa immediately denies. He looks over his shoulder, spinning the ball in his hands. “I’m far from done.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi sighs. “No, you’re not. You’re going to seriously hurt yourself. Again.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa tsks, shoulders sinking, no longer putting up the nonchalant, cheerful act. “Just drop it, Hajime.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You </em> drop it, To.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa shakes his head. He snorts, and Iwaizumi’s mouth twitches into a snarl. “It’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“If it was the first time this week, yes, it’d be fine,” Iwaizumi groans. “But it’s the fourth one. Do we really have to do this every single day?” Iwaizumi is tired of dealing with the same shit over and over again. He cares about Oikawa and doesn’t want him to injure himself, but Oikawa is so ridiculously stubborn about <em> hitting it until it breaks, </em> it hurts to watch. As his certified best friend, Iwaizumi ought to look out for him and he’s happy to do so but the guy can be annoying to the extremes when he’s in this kind of mood.</p><p> </p><p>“No one’s <em> asking </em> you to do this every day, Haji.”</p><p> </p><p>For fuck’s sake. There he goes again.</p><p> </p><p>“Is this about next week’s match?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa serves, a jump floater. Another ball hits the ground on the other side of the net, though Oikawa’s aim is starting to get worse the further he advances. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course not! It’s just another match against another college, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Iwaizumi says, stern. “‘cause it’s Tobio’s team.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa picks up another ball and serves again. The ball slams into the ground with a much more violent <em> smack.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi sighs. “We lost to him almost as much as we didn’t. What does it take for you to stop feeling so inferior to that kid?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s scent spikes with anger. Iwaizumi, of course, knows there’s a fine line that he really shouldn’t cross. But he also knows that if he doesn’t step over that certain line and push way too far, Oikawa’s going to get stuck in his own head before he says anything about it. He’s not the oversharing type. Iwaizumi knows that.</p><p> </p><p>“There’s just something about Tobio-chan that makes me want to absolutely <em> crush </em> him,” Oikawa finally says, voice dark. He turns around, and Iwaizumi immediately spots the golden glint flashing in his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“That attitude is wicked, To. Don’t let your grudge do that to you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Me? Wicked? How mean, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa whines. God fucking damn it. Oikawa is shutting him out again.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shakes his head. He’s had enough for the day. “You know what? Fine. Have it your way. I don’t fucking care anymore.” Liar. “Hope you fuck up your knee even more. Kageyama will surely be surprised when you <em> crush </em> him from the bench.” With that, Iwaizumi steps out of the gym, the icy cold slapping him in the face full-force. He’s gone before Oikawa could even reply.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t actually go home, though. He walks a little further away from the building, so Oikawa neither can see nor smell him. He sits down on a nearby bench, hissing as the cold soaks through his jeans, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Iwaizumi sighs, watching his breath dissipate, eyes naturally drawn to the sky.</p><p> </p><p>And he waits.</p><p> </p><p>It takes half an hour.</p><p> </p><p>Half an hour, and then Oikawa is stepping next to the bench on which Iwaizumi is sitting, looking ahead, the zipper of his coat pulled up till his chin.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the worst,” he says, plain and simple. “Hajime.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi hums. “<em>You </em> asked me to leave.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa turns to him, glaring at his best friend. “But you didn’t actually <em> leave. </em> That’s my problem.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no. Poor thing.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa clicks his tongue. “You know, it’s not fair. What you’re doing.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi stands up, stepping in front of Oikawa, raising a cocky brow that he <em> knows </em> will piss Oikawa off. “I’m not doing anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa narrows his eyes. If this situation was happening a few years ago, Iwaizumi is sure he’d try to look taller, to no use. Oikawa’s outgrown him at the age of twelve and has been at it since, but now that they’re older and supposedly more mature, Iwaizumi can’t find it in him to complain. Hell, he likes that Oikawa is bigger and <em> still </em> manages to fold himself into Iwaizumi’s arms on his bad days, like a child. It's cute.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re taking advantage of my care for you,” Oikawa eventually says, after a few seconds of staring contest. “You <em> know </em> I’m not gonna let you freeze to death, and you know I’ll always prioritise you, even over <em> volleyball. </em> And that’s not <em> fair, </em> Hajime.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hm.” Iwaizumi nods. “You’re right, it isn’t.” He shrugs. “Sucks, huh?” And then he starts walking in the direction of his apartment, not even having to look back to know that Oikawa is still glaring at him. But glare or not, his best friend is quick to catch up, jogging up to beside Iwaizumi, fuming to himself.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you still staying over?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Oikawa grunts. “But I’m not sleeping in the same bed as you.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi smiles. “Couch is all yours.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know, </em> I was gonna take the couch <em> anyway.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Mhm.” Iwaizumi’s grin widens. “Be my guest.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa huffs. They both know where Oikawa will sleep tonight, and it's definitely not the living room. </p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Hanamaki sits down next to Matsukawa, ice coffee in hand. “When you gonna bone him?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi groans, throwing his head back. “When are you gonna stop asking me that?”</p><p> </p><p>“When you bone him,” Matsukawa replies, shrugging.</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki nods. “Yep, when you bone him. So?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not gonna <em> bone </em> my best friend,” Iwaizumi hisses.</p><p> </p><p>“Make love to him, dick him down, suck him dry. Say it how you like, man, I couldn’t care less,” Hanamaki shrugs. “Lure him in and just <em> fuck, </em> please. We’re all suffering here.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi narrows his eyes. “Absolutely shut the fuck up. I’m not doing any of that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pining like an idiot won’t make you TikTok famous,” Matsukawa quips, an annoying grin on his face. </p><p> </p><p>“I could definitely see you posting thirst traps, though,” Hanamaki clicks his tongue, getting off-topic. “You without a shirt. I'd tap that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Woah there,” Matsukawa cuts him off. “What about me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Eyebrow thirst trap? They’re sinful.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dude,” Matsukawa gasps. “That’s low. My eyebrows are as pure as freshly fallen snow.”</p><p> </p><p>Hanamaki scrunches his nose. “No way.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi buries his face in his hands, groaning. “Someone get me out of here.”</p><p> </p><p>“Look at him. He’s gaying all over the place.”</p><p> </p><p>“Nah. He’s just gaying in his own personal bubble.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches. “Shut up.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do gay people smell differently?” Hanamaki asks, ridiculously serious. (Sometimes, Iwaizumi envies him; if he were a beta, he wouldn’t have to choke on air whenever Oikawa’s pheromones penetrate his nostrils.) </p><p> </p><p>“Oikawa <em> definitely </em> smells like a twink,” Matsukawa says after a little contemplation. “A bottom alpha.”</p><p> </p><p>As if on cue, Oikawa appears behind Matsukawa and Hanamaki, gently slapping the back of Matsukawa’s head. “Heard you talking shit, Jennifer.” He plops down next to Iwaizumi, a cute frown on his face. “And I’m not a bottom.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a look before they burst out laughing.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa pouts, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m <em> not.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi takes pity on him. Of course. “Heard you were featured in a sports magazine again,” he changes the topic. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s eyes immediately light up, grinning ear to ear. “Why, yes! Of course I was, Iwa-chan. You’re not surprised, are you?” He slides closer to Iwaizumi, his smug demeanour pissing Iwaizumi off, as always, but he doesn’t act on it. </p><p> </p><p>“Nah. You deserve it.”</p><p> </p><p>If possible, Oikawa’s scent turns even <em> sweeter, </em> beyond delighted. “Do I sense a compliment?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shrugs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “You’ve always been the type to work your ass off. Least that could happen is that people notice you.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa snorts and Hanamaki fucking <em> boos </em> him, but Iwaizumi couldn’t care less. Oikawa is flashing him a genuine smile and it’s all worth it.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan’s become so much nicer,” Oikawa sing-songs, happy with himself. As he should be.</p><p> </p><p>“Nah,” Matsukawa waves him off. “He’s just a flaming hot homosexua—<em>ow, </em> that <em> hurt, </em> Iwa.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Iwaizumi agrees. “That’s like the whole point.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to retort something, an amused shadow crossing his face and Iwaizumi <em> knows </em> it’s going to be another thing that earns him a kick from under the table, but he doesn’t get to actually hear it.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, Tooru.” A random guy comes up to their table, smelling of alpha, seemingly oblivious of the fact that there are three other people sitting in Oikawa’s company.</p><p> </p><p>“Nakagawa-san,” Oikawa nods, grimacing. His scent changes again, discomfort rolling off of him in waves. It’s written in his body language, too, the way his shoulders tense and how he refuses to look at the dude, like he’d rather just ignore him.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you thought about my offer?” The guy asks, not giving two shits about how he’s invading.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s jaw sets. “I told you already, I’m not interested. I’m sorry.” His hand grabs Iwaizumi’s thigh under the table, and he squeezes twice, grip tight. Iwaizumi gets the memo. He throws his arm around Oikawa’s shoulder, pulling him closer. He raises a challenging brow at the guy, provoking him. <em> Say one more word. I dare you. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Ah, Iwaizumi-kun, don’t be like that,” the stranger laughs. “I know you two are not <em> actually </em> dating. I just wanted to ask <em> Tooru-chan </em> here if he wants to spend my rut with me.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi smiles cruelly. “He said no. Didn’t you hear?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, cute. You’re not the one I’m talking to, though.”</p><p> </p><p>“I said <em> no,</em>” Oikawa growls. “Please leave, Nakagawa-san.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi can smell the change in Matsukawa’s scent and sees Hanamaki shift from the corner of his eyes, too. To make sure the guy knows he’s not wanted here.</p><p> </p><p>Seeing the hesitation in the alpha’s eyes, Iwaizumi puts his hand on Oikawa’s thigh, dipping to the inner portion of it, making sure this Nakagawa or whatever catches it. Oikawa plays along, spreading his legs further, leaning back against Iwaizumi.</p><p> </p><p>The guy purses his lips. “Fine. Talk to you later, Tooru-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s not,” Oikawa smiles, flashing the guy a peace sign. That seems to work, and the asshole turns around, leaving the four alone.</p><p> </p><p>“Chair but make it electric,” Matsukawa says, breaking the silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Cruise but make it the Titanic,” Hanamaki counters.</p><p> </p><p>“He snapped,” Iwaizumi sighs. “But make it his neck next time.”</p><p> </p><p>Matsukawa and Hanamaki stare at Iwaizumi for a moment before bursting into cheers.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwaizumi, I just developed a crush on you,” Hanamaki grins.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m hard,” Matsukawa joins him. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” Oikawa says, much quieter, pulling away. Iwaizumi puts space between them, suddenly feeling a little awkward.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yeah, um. Sure.”</p><p> </p><p>Jesus, Iwaizumi. <em> Lame. </em></p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan, what’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi sighs. He knew that question was bound to be asked sometime soon, but Oikawa really only held out for thirty minutes into practice.</p><p> </p><p>“Bad day,” he says. <em> Understatement. </em> He’s had a shitty day, college student and all that, and he knows everyone can smell how irritated is, knows how it’s <em> distracting </em> everyone from concentrating on playing. The few betas of their team remain the same, but all the alphas and omegas glance at Iwaizumi every so often, nostrils flaring, either intimidated or annoyed.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi looks at Oikawa, exhaling slowly. Oikawa’s not unaffected, either. He’s sweaty, gym clothes sticking to his body, cheeks burning pink - from exertion, probably, or so Iwaizumi tells himself - and he looks <em> good, </em> of course but also a little <em> unfocused. </em></p><p> </p><p>“You should go outside and take some time to calm down,” Oikawa suggests. “We can’t practise like this.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi purses his lips. The last thing he wants right now is leaving the gym because volleyball is his greatest source of destressing, but he understands Oikawa’s point. He nods, grabbing his water bottle, leaving the gym. He doubts a little fresh air will help him clear his head, considering he’s been breathing it all day and still no development occurred in his mood but he’s not going to bitch about everything. He’s had enough of that for the day.</p><p> </p><p>He closes the door behind himself, sliding down to the floor with his shoulders pressed against the wall, head thrown back. The ground is cold under his ass, a little too chilly for comfort, but he doesn’t exactly <em> care. </em></p><p> </p><p>He waits a little. Not much time passes, but in a few minutes, the door is already opening again. Iwaizumi doesn’t have to look up to know who it is.</p><p> </p><p>“This doesn’t look like a bad day to me, this looks like an <em> awful </em> day to me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa sighs, sitting down next to him. “What happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shrugs. “Nothing special. College stuff.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa hums in understanding, leaning his head on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “You wanna sleep at mine?”</p><p> </p><p>“I have a class in the morning,” Iwaizumi sighs. “And I actually wanna <em> sleep </em> before that.”</p><p> </p><p>“You will!” Oikawa insists. “Why wouldn’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because whenever we sleep in the same house, we stay up ‘til dawn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not true,” Oikawa puffs. “Sleep at mine, Iwa-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi shakes his head. He already knows he’s lost.</p><p> </p><p>“But,” Oikawa taps his knee two times, “please stop smelling like sex on legs. You always get so awkward about my boners.”</p><p> </p><p>“How am I sex on legs?” Iwaizumi furrows his brows. “I’m literally about to kill the next person that speaks to me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s very sexy.”</p><p> </p><p>“Shut the fuck up.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m saying you smell good! You always do. That’s a compliment! I’m complimenting you!”</p><p> </p><p>“I decline.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t do that! <em> Iwa-chan!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi groans. “Shut up. You’re annoying.”</p><p> </p><p>“Tell you what,” Oikawa starts, tapping his index finger against his chin. “You need to get laid. Get the <em> meanie </em> out of your system.” And then he grins. “I’m gonna suck your dick.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you’re not.” Iwaizumi smacks him on the head out of pure reflex, scowling. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I am. Be grateful! You’re about to get the blowjob of a lifetime.” Oikawa reaches for his waistband but Iwaizumi bats his hands away, his frown deepening.</p><p> </p><p>“Stop being stupid, Shittykawa.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa pouts. He actually <em> pouts. </em> “Fine. Your loss.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, yes. I’ll never recover from this. What a waste. Oh no.”</p><p> </p><p>“Now you’re just being mean,” Oikawa huffs. “I would’ve blown you, you know. I give <em> amazing </em> head.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my God,” Iwaizumi cries. “<em>Stop talking.</em>” His heart is beating a little too fast. Perhaps he wouldn’t have minded all that much. An image of Oikawa flashes through his mind, on his knees, deepthroating Iwaizumi and—okay, this was a bad idea. The slightest fleck of arousal stirs in his stomach at the thought and Iwaizumi tries to shut the image out with little success. </p><p> </p><p>Silence. </p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan.”</p><p> </p><p>“What.”</p><p> </p><p>A small pause. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re turned on,” Oikawa points out the obvious. “I just told you not to smell like sex on legs, and then you proceed to do so <em> even more.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not having this conversation,” Iwaizumi says with finality, trying to stand up, but Oikawa pulls him back, laughing.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m kidding, Iwa-chan, don’t gooo,” he whines. “It’s so fun to tease you.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. Yes. That was definitely just Oikawa teasing him. He’s imagining the flirting part. “So hilarious. I’m rolling on the floor.”</p><p> </p><p>“Always so sarcastic.”</p><p> </p><p>“How the fuck do you expect me to respond to shit like that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You could play along!” Oikawa suggests, grinning. “You could let me suck you off!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, no,” Iwaizumi immediately rejects him, feeling his ears and neck burn with a blush. This is so stupid.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa groans. “Ugh. <em> Boring.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Just—go back to practice.” Iwaizumi nudges him, sticking his elbow between Oikawa’s ribs.</p><p> </p><p>“Will you sleep at mine after?” Oikawa asks, still grinning, the mischief never leaving his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa is as annoying as ever. The fact that he’s still Iwaizumi’s happy pill, however, is even <em> more </em> irritating.</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Hi, Iwa-chaaan.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oikawa, it’s three in the morning.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Call me Tooru.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Fine, <em> Tooru, </em> it’s fucking <em> three </em> in the morning. I’m going to sleep.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “No, wait! I miss you!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“...Are you drunk?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Can’t I miss Iwa-chan when I’m sober?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Nope.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Mean! You’re always so mean. Come over?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“It’s <em> three in the mor</em>—”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Please? Pretty please?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“...Give me ten minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>&lt;&gt;</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa and Iwaizumi have known each other since childhood. They know each other the best in the world, in and out. There’s something very similar to a sacred bond going on with them, <em> obviously. </em> Even the most oblivious ones can pick up on that. Oikawa has always been flashy and Iwaizumi has never really cared all that much about it, so naturally, he lets Oikawa drag him everywhere and flex their friendship muscles. It’s great, it’s nice; he spends a lot of time with Oikawa while satisfying Oikawa’s unreasonable need to be liked by everyone and be <em> known </em> by everyone. It’s always been like that. Iwaizumi staring at Oikawa’s back while his best friend is out there, shining. Iwaizumi doesn’t mind.</p><p> </p><p>It’s safe to say Iwaizumi never really expected things to change between them. He’s always going to be Hajime, and Oikawa is Oikawa, and that’s that. That’s all there is to it. The hopeless little crush he’s sporting will eventually pass (yes, he still believes that, even after seven years) and he’ll find the right one for him, as will Oikawa. And they will be best friends even then, just with a mate by their side, and when they become wrinkly and old and grumpy, Iwaizumi will tell Oikawa he used to be head over heels for him, and they will laugh about it. Iwaizumi is content just like that, thinking he’ll have the right moment to confess <em> decades </em> after it’s relevant. It’s going to be fine, like that. No embarrassment. No rejection. They will be able to joke about it and shrug it off, forgetting about it the next day. That’s how it’s supposed to go down.</p><p> </p><p>Or not.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Iwa-chan, guess who just texted me!”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa climbs onto the space next to Iwaizumi on the couch, throwing his legs in Iwaizumi’s lap. They’re having a movie night, waiting for Hanamaki and Matsukawa to arrive - late, as usual. Iwaizumi has already set up everything, changed into comfy clothes (and gave a t-shirt to Oikawa upon his request, too), made popcorn and put the four-pack in the fridge, not a fan of piss-beer.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi doesn’t even look up from his phone, just asks. “I don’t know, who?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s smile falls, a pout replacing it. “I said guess.”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Iwaizumi flatly declines. “Just tell me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, <em> boring,</em>” Oikawa groans. “Whatever. It’s an upperclassman of mine who’s <em> extremely </em> attractive, y’know? And he asked me out on a date! I think I'm gonna accept.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi frowns. He doesn’t catch Oikawa looking at him, waiting for his reaction - he’s too busy focusing on the lump in his throat and the way his heart sinks. His scent shifts from its neutral state to a sour one, and Iwaizumi <em> tries </em> to control it, but he can’t.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa gets asked out on the daily. Thing is, the story usually ends there, just like that, with a polite rejection and a guilty, awkward smile. Oikawa doesn’t <em> date. </em></p><p> </p><p>Well, okay, that’s stupid. It’s stupid of Iwaizumi to think Oikawa has sworn to celibacy for the rest of his life; of course he’s going to accept offers and will go on dates with people, people that <em> aren’t Iwaizumi. </em> Oikawa is a romantic at heart, it’d be weird if he <em> didn’t </em> go on dates. He’s always gushing about wanting a mate, anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” is all Iwaizumi says. “That’s nice.” God, he’s so bad at lying. His shoulders sink, burrowing his face in his phone, praying that Oikawa doesn’t notice how insincere he sounds.</p><p> </p><p>He should’ve known nothing passes Oikawa’s figurative eagle eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa shifts, shuffling closer to Iwaizumi. Before Iwaizumi can look up and see what he’s doing, Oikawa has cornered him into the small space left for him at the end of the couch, arms on either side of Iwaizumi, placed behind him on the armrest. </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi looks up, heart skipping a few beats. This position is way too <em> suggestive </em> for his sanity. Oikawa is hovering above him, eyes narrowed, mouth set into a thin line and Iwaizumi forgets how to breathe for a second there.</p><p> </p><p>“What?” he asks, voice steadier than he feels.</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa says, voice dipping low. “You’re an idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi furrows his brows, offended. “What did I do?”</p><p> </p><p>“The right question to ask here is, what did you <em> not</em>?” Oikawa shoots back. “You’re so dumb.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi snarls, trying to push Oikawa off of him but his best friend’s hand on his chest puts him back in his place with surprisingly much force.</p><p> </p><p>“If you’re expecting me to read your mind and figure out what you’re talking about, we’re going to be here for a while.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa sighs, exasperated. He closes his eyes, head falling, and Iwaizumi is <em> sure </em> he’s thinking something along the lines of <em> you’re hopeless, Iwa-chan. </em></p><p> </p><p>“If you’re in love with me, you should just say so,” Oikawa finally says, eyes flicking back to Iwaizumi’s face.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi freezes. “W-what?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa snorts. “I <em> said,</em>” he starts, tone mocking, “if you’re in love with me, you should just say so.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi swallows. The colour drains from his face and he’s pretty sure the speed with which his heart is beating is at least twice the amount of the healthy rate. His mouth dries, scent thickening up, his wolf whimpering.</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa <em> knows. </em> He <em> knows </em> Iwaizumi is in love with him.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi is <em> fucked. </em></p><p> </p><p>He tries to get up, but Oikawa pushes him back again, looking irritated.</p><p> </p><p>“You really <em> are </em> clueless,” Oikawa cries. "Can you just grow some balls and kiss me?" he asks a little hysterically, voice cracking. "It's been <em> years</em>, Hajime, one would think you'd caught on by now!" </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi’s jaw drops. “<em>What?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I want you!” Oikawa snaps. “I want to date <em> you</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“But—what about—”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no upperclassman, Haji!” He pulls away from Iwaizumi, sitting back on his knees. “There’s only <em> you, </em> but you never say anything! I don’t want you to tell me ‘that’s nice’ when I get asked out, I want <em> you </em> to ask me out! Jesus!” He falls on his back, head on the armrest, face buried in his hands.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi pushes himself up on his elbows, bewildered, looking at Oikawa. “Are you saying—you <em> like </em> me?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa whines. “Yes! I’m in love with you, I want to kiss you and take you out on gross cute dates and then I want to take you to bed! Get that through your head already!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Iwaizumi chokes out. “<em>Oh.</em>” He catches Oikawa’s eyes looking at him, peeking between his fingers, very obviously <em> glaring </em> at him.</p><p> </p><p>Oh. </p><p> </p><p>Oikawa likes him. Oikawa is in <em> love </em> with him. Oikawa Tooru. His best friend. </p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi gapes, speechless. That was definitely not how he expected their movie night to go, and it hasn't even <em> started </em> yet. Not that people can usually plan being confessed to. It’s just that, he never really thought—seriously. Oikawa? Liking <em> him? </em> Of all the people he could choose from, he wants <em> Iwaizumi? </em> Feels like a reach. What hints was he even supposed to pick up on? Oikawa’s constant need to be scented? That’s normal between good friends, isn’t it? Or the times anyone tried asking Iwaizumi out and Oikawa smelled of pure jealousy? Iwaizumi thought he was jealous of <em> him, </em> not the people asking him out. It makes zero sense.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi swallows and moves, finally. Still not over the shock, a little dumbfounded, he sits up and cages Oikawa just like he did to Iwaizumi a minute prior, looking down at him with an awkward smile.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s kind of hard to believe. I—I didn’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa’s - really pretty, Iwaizumi must say - hands finally fall from his face, still glaring at Iwaizumi. “Yeah, you don’t <em> say. </em> I would’ve never guessed.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi snorts. Then, a much more tender look replaces the awkwardness in his expression, eyes soft. “Can I—?”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” Oikawa grumbles, looking away, cheeks tinted pink.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi smiles, aware that he’s sporting a similar blush, and reaches out to cup Oikawa’s face gently, turning him back towards himself. Iwaizumi glances at his lips, eyes glossed over, and he catches Oikawa doing the same. He seems less frustrated, more...<em>eager. </em></p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi starts to lean down, not closing his eyes right away to see Oikawa’s eyelashes fluttering shut, expression smoothening out, tilting his head ever so slightly.</p><p> </p><p>And then Iwaizumi is kissing him. It’s just lips on lips at first, and Iwaizumi almost panics but Oikawa grunts, beginning to move his mouth against him, tentative at first, then bolder. Iwaizumi wraps his arms around his torso, pulling Oikawa closer to himself, chest to chest just as Oikawa’s arms fall around his neck and legs around his hips, ankles locking. </p><p> </p><p>It’s Oikawa that sets the pace for the most part, and Iwaizumi is absolutely fine with that. He smiles against Oikawa’s lips when Oikawa pushes his tongue inside his mouth, which Oikawa rewards with a grumbled <em> shut up. </em> This isn’t the first time they kiss, Iwaizumi vividly remembers other occasions at parties - a few make-out sessions included, too - but nothing compares to having his best friend pressed up against him, kissing him like this and being able to take it all in <em> sober. </em> It feels much more electric, no traces of the drunk leisure that always turns their kiss sloppy. No, this is a hundred percent real.</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi pulls away a little, panting, eyes fixed on Oikawa’s face. He’s just as out of breath, cheeks red and eyes dazed as they flutter open. Iwaizumi stares at his lips; they’re redder than usual, slightly puckered and just as flushed as Iwaizumi imagines his own to be.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not done yet,” Oikawa breathes, pulling Iwaizumi right back and Iwaizumi agrees because <em> he isn’t, either. </em> This time, they dive right in, no guest appearance of the initial hesitation. Oikawa latches onto his lips none too gentle, practically devouring him with the hunger of a starved animal. Iwaizumi figures that in some way, he is. And he doesn’t mind. At all.</p><p> </p><p>“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” Oikawa murmurs against his mouth, slipping his tongue inside to lick behind his upper row of teeth, successfully stealing Iwaizumi’s breath. </p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you-,” Iwaizumi grunts. “-say anything?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa pulls away, fisting Iwaizumi’s hair, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes. “I was waiting for you. I just—I was so <em> obvious </em> about it, I just assumed you knew but weren’t ready yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well,” Iwaizumi grins. “That’s <em> your </em> fault for assuming.”</p><p> </p><p>“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa laughs in disbelief, shaking his head. “You’re a little shit, you know that?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi leans down and presses a kiss on Oikawa’s nose, all too soft. “Learned from the best.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Shut up. Can you ask me out already?”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi contemplates teasing him a little more, but decides against it. “Okay. Oikawa Tooru, will you go out with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa grins. “On one condition.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi deadpans. “What?”</p><p> </p><p>“You can only address me by Tooru or <em> Daddy, </em> whichever fits the circumstances.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi blinks once. Twice. Then he pulls away, sitting down on the other end of the couch. “I’m breaking up with you.”</p><p> </p><p>“We weren’t even together yet!” Oikawa shrieks. “It’s rejected!”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t <em> reject </em> a break-up—”</p><p> </p><p>“I just did. And to answer your question, <em> yes, </em> I will go out with you, Iwaizumi Hajime.”</p><p> </p><p>Iwaizumi, despite feigning annoyance, smiles. “That’s—okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Oikawa sits up in seiza, grinning at Iwaizumi. “Then seal the deal with a kiss, boyfriend.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who does that?” Iwaizumi snorts, but still lets Oikawa pull him into a passionate kiss that ends with his lap full of his best friend—his <em> boyfriend. </em> God. That feels so good to say.</p><p> </p><p>In a few minutes, Hanamaki and Matsukawa arrive and immediately read the room. They don’t miss a single chance to tease them about it, either - not that Iwaizumi really expected them to. Oikawa stays in his lap for the rest of the night, snuggling up to Iwaizumi’s side. His attention span becomes that of a goldfish, stealing a kiss from Iwaizumi’s lips every three seconds, but Iwaizumi doesn’t bother calling him out on it or dare I say, <em> stopping </em> him from continuing. No, honey, that’d be the wrong alternative universe.</p><p> </p><p>They’re stupid. So, so stupid.</p><p> </p><p>But they’re also in love. Motherfuckers.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i reached a new low i cant believe i wrote a fuckin ABO FIC</p><p> </p><p>kudos and comments are v much appreciated and help me maintain positivity :D y'know Just Saying</p><p>  <a href="https://twitter.com/megumipup">twitter</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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